


Stuck on You

by Angel Grace (angel_grace01)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 3+1 (because I couldn't manage a 5+1 format), Bad Puns, Fade to Black, Grumpy Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-21 14:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17045336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_grace01/pseuds/Angel%20Grace
Summary: Duct tape is mighty. It can even get stubborn T’hy’la together.Don’t try this at home, duct tape should be used judiciously.





	1. A Hole and a Cuddle

Sometimes, it seemed Starfleet command was run by idiots of the highest order. Their latest genius idea involved stranding their flagship’s command team on an uninhabited planet with little more than a single tent, some survival gear, a few personal belongings and orders to fend for themselves for the next fortnight. Apparently, it would be ‘a team building exercise’.

It hadn’t stopped raining since they’d beamed in, some six hours ago. And, from what Jim’d been able to parse from Spock’s epic snitfest - sorry, his scientific discourse - they’d been dropped in the equivalent of a terran rainforest, so it wasn’t likely to clear up any time soon.

Another wonderful idea from Command, Jim snorted to himself. You subject a Vulcan to a wet, cold environment and then expect him to be anything other than snippy and surly… in an utterly logical fashion, of course?

So here they were now, huddled under their thermal blankets, in their musty, dank tent, which was probably some admiral’s idea of revenge for… whatever. Jim admitted he’d done plenty to piss off the brass, so petty revenge was within the realm of possibilities. Jim’d pressed himself to the farthest corner of the small space, ‘cause yeah, he could be a little shit if he wanted, but he wasn’t about to exacerbate a wet Vulcan telepath’s foul mood by huddling up to him for warmth.

A hissing indrawn breath from Spock’s corner made Jim look over. He watched as his first officer pulled his green tinged hand away from his neck, the fingers glistening wetly.

“It appears that, to this dwelling’s many previous faults, we must add its inability to repel water.” As Spock spoke, a fat drop landed on one of his slanted eyebrows and trickled down his face.

Jim was distracted for a moment, his eyes tracing the moisture’s path and wishing he could follow it with his tongue. He shook his head at his own idiocy. After all, despite the fact that Spock was no longer in a romantic relationship ‘as Nyota wishes to maintain a cordial relationship, rather than a romantic one’, the man was clearly not in any way interested in hooking up with his captain. Just getting Spock to agree to a friendly chess game was like pulling teeth, let alone any ‘games’ of a more intimate nature.

Rolling his eyes at how pathetic he sounded even in his own mind, Jim pulled out his roll of duct tape. You have to understand, Jim Kirk had had a thing for duct tape for as long as he could remember. No matter where he was living at the time, he always had some of it at hand.  
Why? Let’s just blame it on growing up in the middle of nowhere: Iowa. Repairmen don’t exactly grow on trees there, you know. If you don’t fix it yourself, it stays broken. Fortunately, on a farm there isn’t too much you can’t fix with a hammer, some duct tape and a can of grease.

Now, some might argue that something as primitive as duct tape has no place on a state of the art, 23rd century starship. They’d be dead wrong.

Jim tore a decent length from the roll and shuffled over to Spock’s side to slap the strip over the small tear in the tent’s fabric. That he had to lean over the Vulcan to do so was incidental, honestly. It’s not like Jim was craving the man’s warmth or anything.

Hang on. Spock was usually like a mini space heater, radiating body heat whenever you got anywhere close to him. Jim frowned. At the moment, though he was almost sitting in the man’s lap, Jim didn’t feel anything. Well, apart from the obvious, but he was a grown man and he could control himself. Stop laughing, damn it! That’s when he realised the Vulcan was actually deadly pale, with a green flush to his nose and ears that would have been cute if Spock hadn’t so clearly been suffering.

‘Screw Vulcan sensibilities’ Jim thought and parked himself right next to the shivering Vulcan, their sides touching all the way down. Spock’s numb hands couldn’t hold onto his blanket as Jim opened it to crawl inside, adding his own blanket to the pile.

“Captain!” No, Spock definitely didn’t squeak as he tried to move away from the sudden contact. His move was half hearted at best though, as Jim’s body heat proved an irresistible lure.

Jim was careful to keep his less than chaste thoughts to himself as he spoke. “Concede to the logic of the situation, Mister Spock. Sharing body heat is a Starfleet taught survival technique when stranded in less than optimum conditions.”

Spock barely made a token protest before he almost seemed to meld into his captain’s heat. As the Vulcan warmed up and the space inside the blankets became toasty and warm, Jim was lulled into a doze himself.

‘This is nice’, was his last thought before succumbing to slumber.


	2. A Splinter? More Like a Tree!

Jim was roused from a lovely dream involving a pointy ear, some chocolate sauce and a dab of whipped cream, by his bed moving rather violently under him. Only after he’d been unceremoniously dumped to the side did he realise he’d actually been sleeping on top of his first officer. And, judging by the way said officer was holding his ear with a look that was equal parts bewilderment, disgust and murder, his dream had been so realistic for a reason.

“Uhm, sorry?” Jim cast around for something to say, other than ‘but it really should be illegal for someone to taste like cinnamon and sin at the same time.’ Deciding part of his insanity was due to hunger, he blurted out, “Breakfast! I was just hungry, let’s get breakfast!”  
Spock still seemed frozen with his hand to his ear - Jim really hoped he hadn’t actually bitten the Vulcan in his sleep - so he took it upon himself to open their packs and grab some of the ration bars they’d been allowed to bring. They’d have to start foraging soon, but for now the tasteless excuses for food would do.

Thrusting the second bar at Spock at least made him lower his hand. Jim was relieved to notice there weren’t any marks visible, though his eartip did seem a bit darker than usual. Then again, the other ear seemed about the same shade so maybe he’d just never noticed it. Realising he was obsessing about Spock’s ears - again - Jim shook himself and quickly finished his bar before rushing outside.

When he opened the tent flap, he was pleasantly surprised to find the torrential rain of last night had completely disappeared, to be replaced by a cheerful sun that was highlighting the lush forest around them. After taking care of his morning ablutions, Jim decided to take the proverbial bull by the horns, or the Vulcan by the ears - argh, enough with ears already!

Spock, who’d followed Jim outside to take care of his own business, turned at the man’s groan and raised an eyebrow.

Jim really didn’t want to explain yet another ‘illogical outburst’, so he clapped his hands, studiously ignoring the Vulcan’s questioning stare. “Right, first things first. We’ll need more shelter than this tent, especially since it’ll be two weeks before the ship is scheduled to pick us up and the damn thing has sprung a leak already.”

“A large cavity in a rockface would in such cases be preferable. Unfortunately, the region’s geographic structure will not support such formations.” Spock put in his two cents.

“In other words, you’d like a cave but there’s none to be had. Any chance of a rocky outcropping, preferably with water nearby?” Jim was looking around as he spoke.

Spock nodded and pointed up the stream next to which they’d pitched their tent last night. “There is an 87.4724 percent chance we will find these conditions at the stream’s source.”

“Great, let’s head there then.” If there was one thing Jim trusted, it was Spock’s percentages. If the man gave it an 87% chance of success, it was pretty much a certainty. They made quick work of packing, or in Jim’s case stuffing, everything back into their rucksacks and started hiking.

By late afternoon they found themself at the rock formation Spock’d predicted. The small pool from which the stream originated was icy and crystal clear.

Some distance from the water, Jim spied the perfect place to make camp: a rocky outcropping offered protection from two sides. If they cut some decent branches from the surrounding woods they should be able to make up the third side of the triangle, then all they had to do was add their tent on top to waterproof it and they’d be set.

By the time night fell they were tired, sore and drenched in the rain that had made a reappearance about an hour earlier, but they finally had a dry place to call their own. Worn down by the day’s activities, they simply crawled into their new home and collapsed side by side, asleep before their heads hit the bedding.

Next morning, Jim woke to an empty dwelling and the smell of wood burning. Feeling much better after his night’s rest, he crawled outside to be greeted by the strange sight of Spock sitting by a fire and holding a very large knife to his finger.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jim quickly darted closer.

“A fragment of wood has embedded itself into my digit. I am endeavoring to extract it.” Spock, completely focussed on his hand, didn’t look up and didn’t move the blade.

Now, what most people don’t know is that with vulcans being touch telepaths, their fingers are extremely sensitive. Jim’d had to listen to more than one lecture from both Bones and Uhura about cultural and physiological differences and some of it’d actually stuck. Of course, Jim being who he was, his mind had translated the information into ‘wonder if you can suck a vulcan off by simply sucking his fingers’? Not like he’d ever find out, mind you. That didn’t alter Spock’s plight at the moment, though. Spying the open first aid kit next to the man, Jim realised he’d been unable to get at the splinter with the kit’s tweezers.

Even though Spock would say that to a Vulcan, pain is irrelevant, Jim didn’t want the man to hurt any more than he had to. He deftly plucked the knife from Spock’s unresisting fingers and put it aside. “Let’s try something else first, ok,” he asked, taking hold of Spock’s hand to take a good look at the splinter’s position. Completely focused on helping him, Jim never even noticing Spock’s slight stiffening and indrawn breath.

“Right, this could work. Hold still, ‘kay?” With that, he grabbed a piece of his ever-present duct tape and gently but firmly pressed it onto the affected digit.

Spock couldn’t help his hiss, but whether it was from the jolt of pain brought on by putting pressure on the splinter, or because Jim’s index finger and middle finger inadvertently stroked down the back of his injured hand as he attempted to help, even the vulcan didn’t know.

Jim remained oblivious as he carefully pulled away the piece of sticky tape, slowly extracting the piece of wood. He was amazed to see there’d been more than a centimeter of it buried in the man’s finger. When he finally looked up, the strange look on Spock’s face startled him.

The silence seemed to drag on as they kept looking into each other’s eyes, Spock’s hand still in Jim’s. That was, of course, when Jim’s terminal case of ‘open mouth, insert foot disease’ acted up and he blurted out: “Want me to kiss it better?”

Spock was up and standing six feet away in a heartbeat. “That will not be necessary; thank you for your intervention,” he spoke with quiet dignity and turned away.

Needless to say, the awkwardness lasted several days.


	3. Mad First Aid Skills

Of course, living in such close quarters made keeping your distance kinda hard. By the time the end of their enforced ‘vacation’ came in sight, they were living and working together companionably. So maybe Starfleet did have a good idea once in a blue moon and maybe, just maybe this team building thing had worked. Sure, Jim was still having inappropriate thoughts every ten to thirty seconds, but hey, at least he wasn’t jumping the poor Vulcan. That had to count for something, right?

The ship was scheduled to pick them up within half an hour. They’d taken down their little shelter and packed everything back up, now all they could do was hang around and wait for Scotty to contact them. 

They were sitting next to the pool’s edge when all hell broke loose. One of the small herbivores they’d often seen around came storming out of the nearby underbrush, headed straight for them. Hot on its heels was something much larger, with wicked claws and sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight. Undeniably a predator, it moved with incredible speed. There were supposedly no large predators on the planet. What the hell was this thing? 

Movement from the two men drew the creature’s attention and it changed direction mid stride, abandoning its snack for the larger meal. With a snarl, it leapt forward, intent on rending this new prey apart. Knowing they would be unable to avoid the creature completely, Jim threw himself in Spock’s direction, pushing the man out of harm’s way. Unfortunately, he himself wasn’t so lucky. A single swipe from the beast’s claws tore through his side like tissue paper. All Jim could think was ‘that’s where a Vulcan’s heart is’.

Spock was momentarily stunned by Jim’s shove, but recovered quickly and lunged for his phaser. This beast was tough. It finally took three consecutive blasts with the weapon set to kill before the creature stopped moving. The immediate threat over, Spock turned back to his captain. Horrified, he watched as the man tried ineffectively to hold his bloody side together. 

“Jim!” Spock was beside him in milliseconds, wildly looking around for something to stem the bleeding. Unfortunately, the beast’s wild swipe had caught their packs too. Their contents were spilling from large gashes, revealing the sad state of their only first aid kit. Its contents were utterly useless now.

“Duct...tape.” Jim spoke through clenched teeth.

Spock just looked at him incomprehensibly, so he laboriously explained: “Crisscross the wound with tape to pull it closed.” When Spock still hesitated, he ordered, “now Spock!”

Galvanised into action, the man did as ordered. By the time he was finished, Jim was panting in pain. 

“Now start wrapping the tape around me. It’ll put pressure on the wound and keep everything in.” Had he been in better condition, Jim might have enjoyed Spock hugging him to pass the tape behind his back. As it was, black dots were dancing in his vision and every time the tape touched his side, his vision whited out. Finally, Spock carefully pressed the torn end of the tape down and sat, pulling Jim against his chest. 

Under normal circumstances, Jim would have enjoyed the close contact. Now, he was just happy the position put the least amount of strain on his body. The pain and blood loss finally caught up to him and he slipped into unconsciousness, his forehead pressed against the vulcan’s warm neck.

“Jim? Jim!” Spock desperately tried to wake him, to no avail. 

Their communicator chose that moment to finally let out a chirp. Realising the Enterprise was finally within range, Spock snatched the device from his belt and ordered, “the captain has been gravely injured. Two to beam up. Medical team on standby!” He was still speaking when the telltale tingle of teleportation touched his skin.

The second they materialised on the transporter pad, they were whisked away to sickbay. Running beside the captain’s gurney, McCoy alternated between trying his best to keep his friend from expiring on the spot and cussing out said friend’s ancestry.

Spock easily kept pace with the group, unwilling to let Jim out of his sight. At sickbay’s doors however, he found himself blocked by doctor M’Benga. 

“There’s little you can do for him now, Spock,” M’Benga’s eyes held compassion as he physically stopped the Vulcan from entering. “Are you injured in any way?”

Spock merely shook his head, his eyer still riveted on the closed door.

“Then the best thing you can do for him is take care of his ship.” 

Closing his eyes, Spock acknowledged the logic of the doctor’s words. “I shall be on the bridge. Contact me with any change.”

 

When Jim next woke, it was to the soft beeping of medical machinery. He felt sore all over and his mind was still a bit addled, but all in all he wasn’t feeling too bad.

“So, you finally decided to rejoin the land of the living?” Bones’ voice came from his left.

Jim watched as the doctor ran several diagnostics, pointedly looking at the displays instead of him. Deciding on some levity, Jim joked: “Aw Bones, it was merely a scratch. I-” That was as far as he got before the man looked at him with fury in his eves and started ranting.

“A scratch? MERELY A SCRATCH?! You had intestines spilling out everywhere! I barely managed to save your spleen ‘cause god knows you can’t afford to lose it as often you end up bleeding out, and just be thankful livers can partially regenerate themselves, or you’d be in even deeper shit! And don’t even get me started on how you tried to ‘fix’ it. Duct tape, Jim? DUCT TAPE?!”

“As always Doctor, your bedside manner is exemplary.” Spock’s dry comment drew Jim’s attention to where the Vulcan was seated on his right.

Of course, it also drew the doctor’s ire to a new target. “And you! You greenblooded hobgoblin. You’re supposed to look out for him. Damn computer! Couldn’t be bothered to use those highfalutin superior eyes to watch out for danger? Or is Jim not good enough to protect?”

“That’s enough!” Jim said sharply, struggling to sit up. He wanted to be able to look his friends in the eyes for this discussion. Maybe it wasn’t the best time, but this argument had been long in the making and he was putting a stop to it here and now. 

“Listen Bones, we go way back and I know you were just venting because you were worried about me, but I won’t stand for you attacking Spock like that.” Jim knew McCoy wasn’t a vicious man at heart. A grouch and a curmudgeon, sure. But the constant sniping and insults made no sense and he was determined to finally get to the bottom of it. “What did the man ever do to you to warrant that kind of behavior?”

McCoy seemed to struggle with himself for a second, then hissed through clenched teeth: “he left you to rot on an ice cube and then tried to choke you to death and you want to know what he did?”

Jim’s eyes widened. “This is about me? But I forgave him for that ages ago!”

“And more fool you. You could have died, Jim!” Bones wasn’t willing to drop it.

“But I didn’t.” Jim grabbed his friend’s wrist and shook it. “I’m ok. I’m here and I worked through it. I’m not saying Spock didn’t make some shitty decisions, but hey, turns out even Vulcans are fallible. If I can get past it, you have to as well. I can’t have the two most important people in my life at each other’s throats, especially over me. Please.”

“He never even apologized.” McCoy tried one last time, the fire visibly going out of him.

“He doesn’t have to/I am deeply sorry,” sounded at the same time.

Jim smiled at Spock. “I know you are, that’s why I never needed to hear it. Sometimes, being friends means not having to say things out loud.” Because despite all the crap that marred their first meeting, the man’s seemingly cold demeanor and his own inappropriate attraction to the vulcan, he first and foremost considered him his friend. 

Spock seemed quite shaken by his words. “Regardless, I should have spoken up before now. My actions at the time were illogical and excessive. I ask your forgiveness.”

“It’s unnecessary, but I’ll say it anyway: I forgive you.” Jim smiled and, wagging a finger, continued, “just don’t do it again!”

“Enough of this mushy stuff,” McCoy groused, uncomfortable with the entire situation. “I promise to remove the hobgoblin from my naughty list and stick him on the nice one. Now can we get back to the partly eviscerated captain laying in my sickbay? And what are you doing sitting up anyway? Did you get your doctor’s approval? No, you didn’t. Lie back down if you know what’s good for you.” His grumblings lacked any heat as he gently eased Jim back on the bed. “Damn fools thinking they know better than medical professionals!”

“Oh, I don’t know Bones,” Jim grinned, willing to steer the conversation in a lighter direction, “I think I did a pretty good job jury-rigging a pressure bandage. You sure you don’t want me to help out in sickbay?”

Looking Jim dead in the eye, McCoy answered: “I’d rather be pecked to death by a flock of hummingbirds,” and left.


	4. Stuck on You

After spending a week in sickbay, Jim was released to his quarters under strict orders, not to mention dire threats of a hypo wielding McCoy, not to set foot on the bridge for the next week. Needless to say, he was going stir crazy within the first day.

When, two days later, Spock stood at his door offering to play a game of chess, Jim almost bodily dragged the man inside.

It was a good thing the Vulcan had shown up when he did, Jim mused as he set up the chess board. By now he’d been bored enough to do something stupid. Well, more stupid than usual for him. Like change the computer’s language algorithms to make it cycle through 73 annoying accents. Ever heard Standard spoken by the redneck equivalent of an Andorian? It ain’t pretty, let me tell you. There was a fair chance that Uhura would finally crack and simply punch him in the face if she found out.

“Something amuses you?” Spock asked, watching Jim’s mouth twitch upward several times as he was occupied with the board.

Jim looked up from what he was doing and full on grinned. “Just thinking of what Uhura’s reaction would be if I messed with the computer’s language algorithms again.” Oh dear. He probably shouldn’t have let drop he’d been responsible for the last time, when he’d made the computer sound like a late 20th century teenager. It’d been so much fun though, watching Uhura twitch every time the computer uttered phrases like ‘So it’s like sooo far away, like, you know’.

Judging by Spock’s stillness, he was not amused. “Uhm, I’m sorry?” Jim held up his hands, “I promise I haven’t touched the coding. You won’t have an irate communications officer on your hands on my account.”

The silence dragged on for a few moments. “Nyota has initiated an intimate relationship with Lt. Commander Scott.” Spock was looking anywhere but at Jim as he offered up this titbit of information.

“What? Why? Is she nuts?” Okay, Jim probably shouldn’t pry, but really, was the woman insane to move from this guy to Scotty? He loved the engineer to bits, but unless you were a piece of machinery or a fine dram of whisky, you probably wouldn’t rank high on the man’s list of priorities.

Spock finally made eye contact. “When I questioned her regarding her choice, she informed me that, as it does not involve our working relationship, my approbation was not necessary.”

Yikes. The old ‘it’s none of your business who I date’. Looking at Spock however, Jim realised the man didn’t seem too broken up about it.

“Well, I still say the woman is blind and an idiot for letting a catch like you go.” Damn, he probably shouldn’t have said that. Even though it was true. Now Spock’s eartips were turning a rather fetching verdant green. Jim cleared his throat. “Right. So, chess?”

The first few moves were made in awkward silence. Before long though, the easy rapport they’d built in recent weeks took over and friendly banter filled the captain’s quarters. Their first game lasted well over an hour, finally ending when Jim tipped his king over.

As Spock offered to get them both some drinks from the replicator, Jim used the welcome break to stretch his legs.

He casually wandered over to his desk and leaned down to grab something from the top drawer. “Hey Spock, I’ve got something for you,” Jim straightened, his hand hidden behind his back and his eyes sparkling mischievously.

After carefully depositing the drinks, Spock he made his way over where Jim was waiting, all the while protesting, “Captain, I am perfectly capable of acquiring anything I should need. The giving of unasked for items is unnecessary and mostly counterproductive as often the gift proves to be of a less than useful nature to the recipient.”

Jim just rolled his eyes and brought his hand into view, brandishing a brand-new roll of duct tape topped with a red bow. Seeing the Vulcan’s confusion, he hurried to explain: “As you’ve noticed recently, duct tape can be dead useful. The type they’ve got in the commissary is pretty crappy though, so I brought my own stash. And, well...” Jim was starting to flounder a bit, “I want you to have the good stuff, so here!” He gestured a little with the roll.

When Spock didn’t immediately take it, Jim tore a short length off. With its end stuck to his index finger and middle finger he waved it in front of Spock’s face and joked, “C’mon Spock, it’s just tape. Take what’s on offer already!”

Spock’s eyes darkened as they followed Jim’s joined fingers. At the man’s words, his gaze flicked up. “I...yes.” Determined, he took a step forward into Jim’s personal space and fitted his own two fingers against the man’s. His hand quickly became stuck to the flailing piece of tape as well, but he didn’t care, too intent to stare down into Jim’s eyes.

“Uhm, Spock? What is… what are you...?” That dark gaze was doing things to Jim’s libido he really didn’t want the touch telepath to know about.  
“I am taking what is on offer.” Spock’s voice was little more than a growl as he slotted his lips to Jim’s.

The roll of tape thunked to the floor, forgotten as fire washed through Jim’s veins. Whoever’d taught Spock to kiss - he was determinedly not thinking about Uhura - had devoted plenty of time to the art. Or maybe the man was just naturally gifted. Oh god, where did he learn that thing with his tongue? This much pleasure had to be illegal.

Jim groaned when their groins touched, their erections hot enough together to spontaneously combust. Taking back the initiative, he tore away his mouth to finally taste those enticing ears. Properly, this time. No weird dreams involved. His hands gently framed those sharp cheekbones.

A sharp indrawn breath escaped Spock but he allowed Jim to turn his head without resistance. Jim didn’t waste any time in nuzzling up his left ear, mouthing higher and higher until he could clamp his lips around the sharp tip and tease it with his tongue.

The effect was immediate and beyond what he’d hoped for. Spock let out the most amazing noise, something between a groan and sob, before he sagged against Jim as if his legs could no longer support him.

Things became rather hazy after that. Jim vaguely recalled making it to his bed. There were clothes thrown everywhere and at one point both his headboard AND his bedframe broke.

It took a while for things to come back into focus. Jim spent a few seconds staring up at the ceiling before he realised that somehow, one of the sleeves of his uniform shirt was sticking out of an airvent. A rhinoceros also appeared to be snoring on top of him, its horn digging directly into his bladder.

When he tried to move, he couldn’t hold back a groan. Everything ached. Mind you, it was a good ache, the best kind as a matter of fact, but right now he had other priorities. His stirring seemed to have woken up the rhinoceros who, upon closer inspection, turned out to be Spock, whose elbow was digging for gold in his lower abdomen.

With a grunt, Jim forcefully removed the offending appendage and looked down to where Spock was hugging his torso like a teddy bear. “Hey you.” He knew he had a silly grin on his face. He didn’t care.

“Jim. I…” Spock seemed at a loss for words but his posture screamed great discomfort.

Jim had a bad feeling about this. So he did what he’d usually do in this kind of situation. He started bullshitting. “Hey, no need to get weird about it. We’re two consenting adults and there’s no reason to make anything out of this we don’t want to. I know all about being the rebound guy and if I’m getting hot mind-blowing sex out of it, I’m quite happy to tie you over until you, you know, are ready for a real relationship again and I…”

Spock shut him up by the simple expedient of kissing him. Full on the lips. With tongue. And for the record, it’s really unfair Vulcans don’t get morning breath. The man tasted like cinnamon. And sin. Mostly sin really.

With Jim suitably subdued, Spock spoke quietly: “Vulcans do not engage in rebound… anything. I apologize if my actions last night were expeditious. However, despite all the sexual innuendo on your part, I believe you would not have taken action within the next 602.592 days. I found myself… unwilling… to wait that long.” Spock slid his joined fingers down Jim’s hand before entwining their fingers. “As for tying me over, I believe you will prove to be most adequate for all my relationship needs.” He paused. “Of course, on the other hand if you wish me to tie you up, I would be quite willing to comply.”

Jim groaned, a myriad of possibilities shooting through his mind. Who knew Vulcans could be so creative in bed? Or sweet? Or hot? Or… everything really? There was a world of possibilities to explore. Just not now. His bladder was killing him!

Being the understanding sort, not to mention a touch telepath, Spock finally started to shift from his position on top of Jim, only to be stopped short by a painful tug at their groins.

Both men looked down simultaneously at the source of their discomfort. A small, silver corner was just barely visible where their flesh met. ‘Huh,’ Jim realised, ‘that’s where that strip of tape ended up.’ Mirth dancing in his eyes, he grinned up at Spock. “Well, in case you hadn’t noticed yet, I’m pretty stuck on you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was written for the Kismet 2018 conzine. Mad props to the ladies who dedicated their time and hard work to making this con happen. They even offer the conzine (that has gorgeous art, as well as many wonderful stories) as an e-zine, with all proceeds going to charity. 
> 
> Should you want to get a copy, you can go to kismetcon2018 dot weebly dot com for their contact information.


End file.
